Within the Walls [NEW VERSION]

Chapter 17

Grey light leaks into the room like water through a hole in the bottom of a boat. Grumbles echo from my insides as I lay in bed, staring out of the window. The distant river peaks through the gaps in the Concave buildings, reminding me how far away from home I am. How trapped I am.

Letting out a groan, I throw the blankets off and scuttle out of the bed to the bathroom, where I splash water on my face and dress in my pants and tunic. The hallways are still hushed as I slip through them. Only the odd handmaiden and servant scurry past.

Rain patters and drips down the arched windows as I stride past them, and a chill creeps over my arms. I descend a set of stairs and enter the kitchen, earning a squeak from the servant reaching for a sack of flour. She flips around, leaning against the stove with a hand over her heart, eyes bulging. For a moment, I wonder if she's afraid of me.

"Oh, Miss Elle," she says, voice pitchy as she steels herself, pulling at the apron pinned to her frock. "What are you doing here at this hour? I'm not sure you may be here without the Prince or an escort."

My cheeks burst into flames. "I suppose I'm still learning the rules. Hopefully, he doesn't scold me. He has quite the temper."

She smiles, reaching back for the wooden spoon in her large brass pot. Steam dances from the bubbling liquid. "He has a temper. But something about him... is lovely."

I scrunch my nose. "He's the most obnoxious person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. He is the bane of my existence."

The girl arches her brows, spilling a giggle. "Careful, Miss Elle. It sounds like you might actually like him."

"Never," I say, letting out a braying laugh as I march into the scullery, grabbing a loaf of bread and olive oil.

I cut the bread on the bench next to her as she sprinkles a pinch of salt into the hissing pot. "Miss Elle. I envy you."

My serrated bread knife slams into the wooden chopping board as I glance at her. "How so?"

"You are marrying the prince," she says, pursing her lips like it is the most obvious answer in the world. "You are never going to have to worry about anything again. And he is gorgeous. I wish he looked at me the way he looks at you."

The lump in my throat is a struggle to push past. I shake my head, releasing a laugh. "He doesn't look at me in any way."

"He looks at you like he's never known warmth and you're a dancing flame," she says. "Not to mention, you are going to change our world. We have been waiting for you."

I stuff the bread dipped in olive oil into my mouth. "I am just a girl. And I almost killed the prince. Might I remind you?"

"Well, how many people get away with such crimes?" she muses, pressing her lips together. "If you can get away with it, the rest of us can do it. You have given us hope we can fight."

"You better keep your voice down," I say, tightening my jaw.

"There's no need to worry about myself like that anymore, Miss Elle. I have nothing left to lose. I can only hope you will fight with us."

The hairs on my arms spring up and a shudder ripples down my spine. Those words. Like she's echoing the man I exiled.

I finish the bread, and bid her goodbye, wondering, for an agonising beat of my heart, if anyone was lingering in the corridors or the shadows, listening to her treasonous words. The hallways are still swathed in the grey shadows of dawn as I make my way back to my room. But as I reach my door, I wonder if I should ask a servant for directions to Ruben's room. Something about my interaction with the servant makes me want to see him.